


The Hyas Heist

by burlesque_articulation



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Defamation of Character, Heist Shenanigans, Multi, PickleSaysFuck2k19, borderlandsbigbang, borderlandsminibang, everyone is allowed one (1) chance to drag rhys, idc anymore, it's been two (2) days now so dramatic reveals are out the window and the tags are now up-to-date, life is short and So Am I, light gore, like it's still 7 or so years after BL2, lol, set somewhere before the actual start of BL3, the con trio no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 14:14:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20583824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burlesque_articulation/pseuds/burlesque_articulation
Summary: Hyas—an Atlas outpost located on the planet of Promethea—has within something of interesting value.The grifter sisters—missing the bittersweet thrill of the old days—decide that whatever it is, they want it. But when the initial plan gets too complicated, they're forced to outsource.The fingersmith—a friend of a friend- knows exactly what's hiding inside the Atlas facility, and is more than happy to offer his skills. For a price, of course.But what starts out as a simple heist just might become the catalyst that finally sparks war between Maliwan and the Atlas corporation. And give a certain dangerous cult an edge they've been looking for.





	1. Heist

**Author's Note:**

> Whaddup theydies & gentlethems ??? I just wanna start off by giving a huuuge shout out to my magnificent artists; [charlie](http://wildcherrylime-art.tumblr.com) and [trigger](http://kirbro.tumblr.com) !!!
> 
> and also to [agentandromeda](http://agentandromeda.tumblr.com) for beta'ing for me xoxo :D
> 
> So much love to everyone! And links to the art provided by my amazing artists will be in the bottom note of all chapters, as well as the art it self being sprinkled here and there.
> 
> So without further ado, enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Chapter Song]](https://youtu.be/-ro2zLBpUj8)

There were many things he regretted in his admittedly rather short life. A prime example being that he still hadn't learned the wisdom of not biting off more than he could chew. And so here he was, hanging upside down in a vent, staring at the fast spinning blades of a fan—and beyond the low hum, the sound of conversation pricked his ears from below. He certainly wasn't getting a large enough cut to be putting up with this sort of thing.

"Fucking  _ heck _ ," he cursed, slowly lowering himself little by little, the light breeze from the fan blowing his fringe about. This damn fan had not been on the blueprints—how the crooked shell  _ hell _ did they expect him to dismantle it without being heard? Had they even known about it? Because he bloody well hadn't.

_ Improvisation is the key to any good heist, son _ , Pickle reassured himself, ears straining to hear the conversation below to gauge where in the room the speakers were located.

_ "Hey what's the hold up? You're not even in position yet. _ " The echo-transmitter buzzed in his ear, throwing off his estimate.

"Well, no one thought to mention there being a fan at the end of this vent," he hissed.

" _ What? Whatever, just go around it or bust through it. Whatever it takes. This is kind of time sensitive," _ Fiona reminded him.

"Oh? Is it now? I'd no clue." He shifted his weight, leveling himself so he hung as flat as he could over the fan. "Normally, you'd have a point—but there seems to be people in the room, and you said there wouldn't be anyone."

There was a tangible pause. " _ I never said that. I—nope, no, I don't remember saying that, like ever, _ " was the entirely unhelpful reply.

Pickle bit back a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine, fine: just one question then."

"_All right, continue._"

"Are you sure that killing peoples’ off the table?"

" _ Wh- YES! No killing people! _ " Pickle physically shrunk at the sudden shouting in his ear. " _ God, when Janey said you could be difficult, I didn't think she meant keep an eye out so you don't go on a murder spree. _ "

"Tch, come on, really? And anyway, you're the one saying we don't have all day."

" _ You cannot kill anyone, Pickle. We need to be in and out without raising any alarms, so murder is off the table. _ "

He let out a soft 'hrmmm' sound, tapping the tip of his masked nose as he focused his attention back on the fan beneath him, looking more closely at the three bolts—that normally would've been screwed into the otherside of the fan.  _ Now that ain't exactly up to code, now is it? _ "Right, I can't kill anyone." 

_ "Yes, you cannot kill anyone, find another solution." _

He reached a hand down toward the top of the fan, a flat headed screwdriver digitizing from his digi-deck. "Mhm, because _ I  _ can't kill anyone." He stressed the "I", loosening one screw, then the next one, before completely taking out the third.

" _ Okay, so… I definitely don't like how you said that _ ."

Next, using the tip of the screwdriver he started lightly tapping against the top of it, just enough that there was an audible hush in the conversation below.

"What's that?" followed by the response, "I dunno, probably the rickety fan being... rickety. Honestly, I don't think anything in this place functions like it should."

And that was just the sort of thing the fingersmith was hoping to hear.

_ "Pickle, what are you doing?” _

"Well, I ain't killing anyone- tha's'fo'sure." He mumbled a bit as he carefully loosened one of the two screws that were left just a little more, trying to keep his breathing steady as the fan started to wobble beneath him, a blade making a rather unpleasant sound as it scraped against the side of the vent. Satisfied with that, he double tapped on his cable-gadget. A slight tug on his safety harness and he was pulled back up the shoot, only stopping when he got to the nearest break that he could cram himself into.

"Karen! Don't stand under the damn thing!" He heard a male voice shout from below.

And with that, he leaned just far enough to the edge to drop the screw he'd kept in hand, watching with some slight satisfaction as it landed almost perfectly enough to jam the blades- but after some wretched grinding noises, and a rough "_thunk_!", the screw passed through, and was promptly followed by the entire fan.

"Karen, look out!"

Pickle took that moment to sit back, listening intently for the ensuing catastrophe. There was a general thud, along with the sound of metal cutting through soft flesh and gore, wet and heavy, spraying across the room below. He felt a shiver crawl up his spine as he quietly exclaimed, "cripes almighty, that sounded juicy."

" _ WHAT DID YOU JUST DO? _ "

Fiona's voice rang out in his ear, his heart leaping in his chest. "Cripes, Fi, can you not be shouting at me? I don't have time to be distracted—time sensitive mission an all, eh?" Pickle replied in a hoarse whisper. Then, after taking a few moments for his heart rate to decline he quickly checked to make sure his gadgets were in place before repelling back down the vent, the sound of sobbing getting louder the further down he got.

"Just get someone up here! Kevin just took a fucking vent fan to the head! I don't- ohmigod, ohmigod, there's just- so, so much blood! Kevin, Kevin, can you hear me?  _ Kevin?! _ "

Pickle paused, hanging in about the same spot said fan used to be, taking in the gore-y scene presented below. The fan had landed just below "Kevin's" shoulder, leaving deep, gushing wounds across the left side of his upper back, and quite possibly having broken the man's neck as well. "Yup, that one's definitely brown bread dead..."

Just outside of his visual range he could hear the "Karen" person sobbing and hyperventilating, rambling all sorts of things. From "oh god please don't be dead," to "what am I gonna tell Shepard? How could I ever tell Shepard that I lost you?" Pickle wasn't exactly sure what  _ 'Shepard' _ was, but it certainly sounded like a name someone would give their pet.

But anyways, Pickle slinked lower until he was hanging upside down out of the vent; Karen's back faced away from the gruesome mess that Kevin was now. Carefully, and with as much stealth as Pickle could muster in his precarious position, he recalled an old lesson Athena had given him once—pointing out some of the sensitive nerves in the body that with enough pressure could immobilize anyone. Although he was fairly certain, given enough time, Karen was likely to faint from her rising hysteria, Pickle unfortunately didn't have that kind of time anymore.

" _ Karen- Karen are you still there? Tell us what floor and what room you're in so we can send someone- _ " The echo-comm she'd been clinging to crackled, causing the briefest of pauses in her sniffling before she tried responding, yet only managing to choke out nonsense and more crying. "What am I gonna tell Shepard? What- what do you even say-" she broke off into more crying, which only managed to elicit a long sigh from whoever was on the other end of the ECHO-comm.

"_Listen, Karen, if you want help, you're gonna have to breathe for me—can you do that? Deep breaths; we need to know where in the facility you are exactly_."

Karen heaved, clearly trying- but failing- to get herself under control. Every time she tried to take one breath, she ended up taking in several small bursts before letting it back out in the form of pitched cries. It was during the peak of one of these inhales that Pickle seized his chance, angling two of his gloved knuckles before striking her in one of the softer points near the nape of her neck. She immediately went rigid before she crumpled onto the floor like a deflated balloon.

"Nighty night." Pickle mumbled, then gave a quick salute to the fallen one, before using his cable to swing himself far enough to the side to avoid getting any gore on his lovely boots. It was at this point he noticed how quiet Fiona had gotten. Which probably wasn't a good thing. "Um... Fiona, you still there, yeah?" he asked meekly, still trying to avoid being too loud in case Karen's discarded ECHO-comm was still active, or if someone passed by the maintenance room.

Silence met him, which was a little unnerving, but ultimately he decided it was probably best to just continue with the plan. He could recall enough of the schematics to know which vent he needed to get into next, and where to head from there. He gave his cable-gadget two quick double taps, and it immediately unstuck itself from inside the vent and wound itself tightly back into its place on his belt. Honestly, out of all the gear he'd acquired over the years, this setup had to be one of his favourites.

"Okay, I understand if you want some space, but let me just get one thing clear... technically I haven't killed anyone here."

"_You know what? I don't believe you_." Fiona finally responded, around the same time Pickle managed to jimmy the grate off the wall. "_I heard everything, Pickle—what the hell is wrong with you?_"

Pickle swallowed an irritated sigh, slid into the vent, and pulled the grating back in place. "How'd you mean?"

"_You just killed, what, like two people? After I _specifically _said—"_

"Now you hang on- Karen is actually taking a lovely little nap right now and Kevin's death can be attributed to a 'rickety old fan' not being up to code. I never even laid a hand on the thing—the fan I mean; you'd think the cameras would'a shown you all that."

Fiona's response seemed to come in the form of silence. Very judgemental silence. Until she vocalised in agitation, "_there are no cameras in the maintenance rooms, Pickle—I'm completely blind on your side and I don't like what I've been hearing."_

He rolled his eyes, "ain't 'chu from Pandora? What's the big deal if I did off one bloke?"

"_I—it's—it's the principle of it! How are we supposed to pull this off if you've got a trail of bodies piling up behind you_?"

Pickle paused right before the vent broke off into another long shoot. "I mean, it was one guy, it ain't like I plan to start going hog wild on the rest of the staff. And again, all things considered, the fan killed Kevin."

"_Mhm, yeah, alright. But what made the fan fall onto Kevin, thus killing him?"_

Double tapping his cable-gadget, he made sure it was properly secured to the top of the shaft, before replying simply "Gravity."

_ "Pickle, I swear to Pandora and back, when I see you again I am gonna beat your–" _

Pickle suppressed a long yawn while looking down the unlit shaft. "Alright, well, I'm on my way down the last shaft; so how's about I give you a shout when I'm at the end, then we can let Sash know we're a go." He didn't bother waiting for a response, instead muting the ECHO-transmitter in his ear before he slid off the edge and began the final descent towards the Hyas Outpost's oh-so-infamous vault.

Not to be confused with a Vault, of course. As far as Pickle was aware, Altas had left that back on Pandora, where their resources weren't constantly getting diverted or sabotaged by Maliwan. Not that he knew, or cared, why the two corporations were having a go at each other. It was actually pretty convenient, given that it meant Atlas' security would be more focused on what was going on outside of the complex than inside of it.

Made things easier for himself and the two grifter sisters, at the very least.

But that wasn't the sort of thing he needed to focus on right now, was it? Nah, because he just came to another annoying stop in his trip to the Hyas vault. The maintenance tunnel he was using had a sophisticated lock that required a PIN—and from the looks of it, a retinal scan as well. Switching his echo-transmitter back on, he swallowed another curse. "Hey, Fiona? Sasha hasn't gotten to the good part of the tour yet, right?"

There was a painfully long pause before he got his response. "_No, looks like she opted to get some coffee first—why? What is it this time?"_

"Big lock. Needs an access code, and I believe a retina scan."

"_You could probably figure out the access code yourself, as for the retina scan... I mean, maybe it wasn't such a bad thing you killed that maintenance worker?"_

"I thought we already covered the fact that I didn't kill him, and cripes almighty, what d'ya expect me to do? Pop the bugger's mince pie eye out?!"

" _ I mean, you see a spork laying around anywhere?" _ _ _

"No-no, I don't give a tom tit shit- I ain't doing that. I'm just... I'll just have to figure something else out."

"_Fine, leave a perfectly good eyeball to waste, then."_

Pickle found himself idly tapping the tip of his nose again, different scenarios of how this could potentially play out skirting across his mind. It is a bit fickle to be gung-ho 'bout killing, only to draw the line at bodily mutilation, and post-death at that... "I think I might want a bigger cut then previously mentioned."

" _ We can talk about that when the jobs actually done," _ came the curt response.

* * *

Steady breathing was a necessity if he was going to pull this off- especially since he hadn’t exactly packed for this sort of operation. A flat-headed screwdriver sure as  _ fuck _ wasn’t an ideal replacement for, well… well, whatever someone usually used for dishing out a person’s eyeball. Fiona had mentioned a spork a few times, but it wasn’t like Pickle had planned to stay and have lunch or anything.

He took a deep breath, thankful that the filter in his mask also managed to lessen the smell of death and… other gross things, that hung heavy in the air now. One twitch of the wrist, a quick twist and…  _ Goodness this is so much easier when… well, when the person is dead. _ He quickly shook the thought out of his head, reaching a steady hand down towards the dead man’s eye as it hung limply by his bloodied cheek, the optic nerve now the only thing holding it in place. He tried pulling it first, hoping it would just sort of… snap apart; but when that didn’t heed results he let out a sharp sigh and stabbed the tip of the screwdriver down, driving it through the optic nerve, but also back into the cavity causing a brief squirt of what was still swimming around inside the man’s head.

It took Pickle a solid minute to get a hold of himself so he wouldn’t contaminate the scene with what he’d had for breakfast.  _ Just don’t think about it, don’t think about it. _ He kept that thought on loop in the back of his mind as his screwdriver digitised back into his digi-deck, and he kept the eye gently posed between his thumb and forefinger of his right hand, meanwhile using his left to manipulate his cable cord to swing back over to the other side of the room. He didn’t bother pulling the grate back over the vent this time, and instead just slid inside, giving himself enough umph that he made it the short distance to the chute, sticking one leg out to catch the lip of the other side of the hole so he wouldn’t just keep going down. He slapped the end of his cable gadget to the top of the vent and  _ then _ he let himself plummet down the chute, feeling the familiarity of his harness seizing around his frame just above the interface for the lock that led into the final part of the maintenance tunnel, and the vault.

It was around this time that he noticed how quiet Fiona had been throughout the whole ordeal, but then he figured she was probably busy giving Sasha updates, or just trying to keep an eye on her sister through the security feeds. It didn’t matter, though. Having his own voice bouncing around his head right now was more than enough for the fingersmith.  _ Just get through the lock, then it’s down to the Vault- wait as Mr. Atlas deactivates all the security protocols for me, then wait some more until they leave the room, pinch the crystal, leave the fake, then back up the shoot. _

But a million other little tiny details crawled around inside his head, swirling around, distracting him as he situated himself above the lock that he almost over-rotated, placing a gloved, and heavily bloodied hand, against the lock system. Looking at the smear that was left across the interface, his stomach did backflips.  _ It’s fine, whatever, who cares? _ He activated the eye scanning protocol, holding the eye and his breath for as long as it took for the system to accept the scan.

Guess it was a good thing that Kevin had clearance, would’ve been a damn shame if Karen had been the one who’s eye Pickle had needed.

“Shut up,” Pickle shook his head in aggravation at his own thoughts, tucking the eye into his breast pocket without thinking about it, then he twisted, reaching to get some tools from his satchel when in the light of the lock’s interface he finally noticed just how much blood was on his gloves. They were practically dripping with the stuff. He swallowed as bile started to build up in the back of his throat, everything seemed to spin a bit, and the maintenance tunnel felt so uncomfortably tight all of a sudden. It was all over his hands, the front of his jumpsuit, the lock- and whatever had gotten over his face.

“No, no, I can fix this- I can fix...”  _ It's not it's mine, 'cause it—it ain't _ —he sucked in a breath, peeling away his gloves in a flurry, wrapping them up inside out and around each other, then his hand shot inside his pack, before darting back out with a package of heavy duty disinfectant wipes, that he tore open without a second thought. First he wiped down the lock’s interface, scrubbing it clean of everything from the blood smear to the light dust that had settled over it before he’d ever even set foot inside the facility. Then he took care of the front of his jumpsuit, and finally he pulled down his mask, the air tickling the sensitive skin of his face. He pulled out a new wipe before rubbing it across his face, not even caring that this particular brand wasn’t exactly made for skin-contact. He finished off his frenzy by covering his hands, sliding the wipe between his fingers, over the front and back of his hands, even pushing up his sleeves to wipe all the way past his wrists. “We’re fine, see? Everything… everything’s just peachy.” 

He savoured the silence of the vent for all of a few seconds before there was a crackle from his ear. _ “Hey, Pickle… buddy, you okay? You’ve kind’a been babbling for like… ten whole minutes.” _

Pickle bit the inside of his cheek as he pulled his mask back up over his face. “Fine, just… the lock’s given me a bit o’ trouble but I should be good now.” He lied, ignoring the last few tremours of what he figured was just a fake panic attack. After all, he didn’t get  _ those _ anymore. “Shouldn’t be more than a couple of minutes before I’m through.”

_ “Well… alright, if you say so…” _ Fiona didn’t sound convinced at all, which was fair, honestly. Pickle was a great liar and all, but not so much when he was still shaking and trying to find a place inside his satchel for the soiled gloves and wipes, while also trying to find a new pair of gloves, and the device he needed to get the passcode that would open the lock.

_ One thing at a time, maybe? _ Which was probably the most useful thought he’d had all day. Yeah… one thing at a time.

With the help of his tools, getting the PIN was a breeze. He settled into his harness as the end of the chute slid open with a soft chime from the interface. "I'm through the lock, so let Sasha know I'm in position." Pickle didn't wait for the response, muting the ECHO-transmitter in his ear before he continued his descent.

* * *

"You know, I still don't think _'Tears of Hyas'_ is quite right for it... I mean, first of all, it's pink, and it honestly just looks… like your average uncut stone." There was a short pause before Sasha was talking again, "why are you showing it off to me again? I kinda thought we were coming in here to look at some new gun prototypes…" She genuinely sounded upset that that wasn't the case.

There was a deep sigh from the man standing beside her. The CEO of the Atlas corporation, Rhys Strongfork, certainly didn't live up to expectations. He looked about five seconds away from taking an impromptu siesta in the nearest dumpster. Pickle swallowed a snort of laughter as he nearly held his breath while spying on the duo with a resting rakks view of the 'vault' below.

"Not everything is about guns, Sasha; and I'm showing you this because it came out of the Vault—y'know our Vault? And the name, it—it's symbolic, okay? Why do you nitpick everything I do—can't we just have a normal conversation?"

"Well, maybe if you named it something better I wouldn't have to _'nitpick.'_" Sasha made dramatic quotations with her fingers, before crossing her arms, no doubt putting her serious face on. "And so what if it came from the Vault?"

"Well because it just so happens to be a very, _very_ rare crystal. Not many people even know that much about it—which is why I actually have a specialist coming by next cycle to appraise it." For the first time since entering the room, Mr. Atlas seemed to stand at his full height, quite proud of himself, despite Sasha giving zero signs that she cared even a little bit.

"Yeah, cool—gloat away I guess. I mean," she paused, crossing her arms and shifting her weight, "wasn't the Vault technically split 50/50 between you and  _ Fiona _ ? Shouldn't you be… I dunno trying to convince her to care about this or something?"

"Well… I actually would've liked to give you both a tour of Hyas, but… Fiona and I haven't exactly been on speaking terms in a while—also the spoils of the Traveler was pretty much split four ways to keep things even— _ eight _ ways actually when you consider the fact that we did have to outsource."

"And yet you didn't ask any of the other six to come here," Sasha tilted her head back, like she was avoiding Mr. Atlas' gaze, but in actuality she was seeking out exactly where Pickle had himself situated, he gave a quick wave of his fingers, dropping a bit lower from the vent, until his entire upper torso was out from cover. He hoped this would give Sasha a clear message that she needed to escort the CEO from the room so the job could finally be done with. 

"Yes… well, everyone else is either already set for life, or they aren't on speaking terms with me. Janey and Athena haven't exactly kept in contact since the wedding, Zer0 is already on the Atlas payroll, LB is… well, y'know, and Vaughn's been out of contact since he lost the Children of Helios. And… then there's Fiona… I... " Mr. Atlas trailed off, running a cybernetic hand through messy hair.

Pickle arched a brow- suddenly in much less of a hurry to see the pair leave the room. Mr. Atlas seemed to be a goldmine of interesting information. For the most part Pickle had been tuning the man out; since Athena had given Pickle the low-down about the Traveler it didn't really interest him. But it turned out that the Atlas CEO did have plenty of interesting connections. 

"I think I get it now." Sasha finally spoke.

"Uh… get what now?"

Her eyes rolled. "Why you actually wanted me to come here, dummy. There's something you wanna say—and you've just been waiting for the right time to say it, yeah?"

"I-" The man deflated, shoulders slumping. "I... Guess that is a way of putting it. I'm not sure I really know what it is I want to say; but there’s definitely something that I _need_ to say."

The man's awkward phrasing aside, Pickle spied a subtle change in Sasha's stance, "Rhys...." Her tone adopted a strained sort of softness. Pickle shifted uncomfortably as the atmosphere in the room below seemed to change, the scene seeming to take a much more personal route. Sasha sighed, "alright, so, as interesting as this _Heart of Atlas_ is, why don't we just find some place to sit and actually talk then? I think the rest of the tour can wait."

Mr. Atlas opened his mouth, looking like he'd really rather not- but Sasha closed the distance between them, putting a hand gently against the bicep of his left arm, and every bit of tension seemed to leak out of his body. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea." 

_ Oh, thank fuck. _ Pickle nearly let out a relieved sigh, but managed to restrain himself. While he waited for the pair to make their way towards the exit, he quickly rifled through his various pockets before finding what he was looking for; then promptly dropped from the vent, his harness seizing around his torso as he came to a halt just in front of the objective. He promptly ignored Sasha as she looked back just in time to watch him soundlessly land on the floor. Pickle gave her a nonchalant shrug right before a certain stolen watch activated and he was gone from sight.

The look of complete bewilderment that crossed her face would have been hilarious if it hadn't been so ill-timed. "Something wrong, Sasha?" Mr. Atlas was a half step ahead of her, but the moment she'd paused, he'd turned around to eye her with a questioning expression.

"Hm? Um, no, I just… I… I can’t believe you kept that,” she deflected.

Pickle forcefully shoved another sigh back his throat as he leaned against the podium behind him; careful not to put too much weight against it. While this was a bit of tech he rarely got the chance to actually use, it wasn't apart of his plan to stand there wasting the battery while the pair at the exit started up yet another conversation he had no interest in hearing.

Mr. Atlas’ brow was furrowed as he looked to where Sasha was pointing. "Oh, right… um…” The item in question was actually an entire arm, hanging against the left wall. Pickle crossed his arms over his chest as he waited impatiently for them both to leave so he could actually get to work.

“It is the one from Helios, isn’t it? Before… you know.”

“Uh, yeah… I- I dunno why I still have it, I just...“ The man seemed to tense greatly, like he was trying to make himself disappear from the entire conversation.  _ You an' me both, mate,  _ Pickle thought.

“Uh huh.. You keep anything else from back then?” Sasha's tone sharpened, and he was beginning to think she'd forgotten he was in the room.

Pickle also wasn’t an expert on what kind of relationship Sasha had with Mr. Atlas, but her tone made it pretty clear that she’d just asked a loaded question that forced a grimace from the CEO. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sasha—I would never have kept…” he trailed off, already rousing a glare from Sasha. “Look, I told you I destroyed that, didn’t I?” 

_ Oof, that sounds like a whole can of worms that don’t need spilling, doesn’t it? _ Pickle was beginning to regret coming out of the vent so quickly, the last thing he'd wanted was more forced observation of awkward, and clearly personal, conversation. He shifted his weight back onto the balls of his feet, turning to look at the objective instead. The overall size of the cluster was uncomfortably large by comparison to crystals Pickle had encountered previously, but that might give an explanation for why the cluster had such an intense luster.

“I know… I- look, why don’t we just get out of here, we have more important things to talk about, right?” Sasha finally waved the CEO off, switching topics like a pro.

“Of course. Plus the turrets in the room should be back on any minute now, so it’s best we get you out of the room at least– your bio-signature isn’t exactly Atlas verified so…”

"Yeah, guess I better not trip on the way out then." Sasha gave a hollow laugh. Pickle threw a glance over his shoulder to see Sasha giving the room a curious look before finally exiting behind the CEO, no doubt wondering how Pickle had managed to disappear. Or more likely, perhaps she wanted to know for sure what else Mr. Atlas might have kept, whatever that meant.

Pickle hummed to himself, as he watched the heavy set doors come to a silent close behind the duo, taking their tense vibes out with them. He then carefully lifted the sizeable pink crystals with his gloved hands, giving the crystals a quick once-over. Next would be placing the fake, which he'd already adjusted before downloading the file into his digi-deck, and then back up the vent with the booty in tow as he made his escape. None of which really required him to be on the ECHO. Shaking his head, he lifted his satchel up onto the podium, flattening it out enough that he could begin easing the chunk of seraph crystals down.

Then, after placing the fake (gently nudging it around in place a few times), he gracefully popped the ECHO-transmitter from his ear and dropped it to the floor, stomping it down until it was just barely recognizable. Like a curious bit of dust in an otherwise immaculate room. He considered taking his leave then, but his eyes strayed from the vent above to the other curious items stashed around the room. It wasn't like he'd get a chance like this again—some of the most interesting and notorious of Atlas' bounty was inside this very room—and Pickle had at least a couple of minutes to take a quick looksey, right?

"Right," Pickle spoke self-righteously to himself, poking around the corners of the room. A few things of interest stood out to him at first glance—mostly blueprints and tech that all looked like they came from pre-Hyperion era Atlas—until something in particular seemed to jump out at him, over in the back of the room. Right where the lights were dimmer, he caught sight of a faint blue glow from beneath some sort of cloth.

He wasn't entirely sure he'd seen anything, until it flickered again. Whatever it was, someone had put the effort into concealing it under said cloth. Reaching out, he was startled to see empty air where his hand should be, before he snickered to himself. _ Oh right,  _ he snorted, remembering the watch as the soft fabric was pulled away by an unseen force, revealing... well, he wasn't quite sure. 

Underneath, in a small glass case, he could see what was creating the light, but he hadn't the slightest idea what it actually was. Inside the glass was a smaller glass case, and inside that something even smaller, disc shaped, and blue. He squinted at it, moving closer, but only managed to get a blurrier look. He leaned back, and although it did bring better focus, he was starting to wish he hadn't put his specs away.

"Cripes, I don't have time for this... take it or leave it, son." He hadn't even finished the sentence before he'd reached forward to try and lift the glass case up—only to find it latched on both sides. Pickle digitized his flatheaded screwdriver and jammed it under the left side of the case, ready to add some weight to jimmy the case open—when a low hum of the turrets coming back online pricked his ears. Without a second thought, he wrenched on the screwdriver.

There was a crack of the case breaking open, followed by a high-pitched sound of an EMP going off—the lights in the room shutting off, accompanied by the sound of the turrets powering back down. Even Pickle's stolen watch shorted out, and he was left standing completely exposed in the dark room. Well, save for the still-present blue glow from whatever it was that had been inside the case.

"Oh, well... fuck."

* * *

"What the hell, kid? You've been off the ECHO for almost thirty minutes—probably longer, actually—did you get lost? Did you even make it to the vault room?" Fiona wasted no time reprimanding the little shit the moment he slid into the back of the unmarked runner, which was sitting only a ten minute jaunt from the Hyas Outpost. She'd spent that last half hour nervously flicking through the Hyas's systems trying to get some sort of lock on him but had come up completely empty until now as he pulled the door closed behind him.

"Wha- of course I did. I assumed Sasha would've already been in touch with you."

"Nope, Sasha's busy. Just tell me you got it so we can go."

"Uh, okay. I got it—but what about Sasha? Ain't we getting her too?"

"No. The only communication I've gotten in the last half hour was an ECHOmessage from her saying she was staying for the rest of the tour—so imagine my surprise when I try to get a hold of you, and all I get is  _ static _ ." But still, she took his word for it, and started up the engine, flooring it southward. They would eventually hit a decent sized, but shallow enough river that they could take to the northeast long enough that the trail would get lost, and they'd be closer to temporary home.

It seemed like the drive was going to be a silent one, until Pickle went and opened his mouth. "So what exactly should I do with this now?"

Fiona looked over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of an eyeball. She immediately looked back in the direction she was driving. "I dunno. Keep it, I guess."

A disgusted noise told her what Pickle's opinion toward that idea was. "You sure I can't just give it a toss out the window?"

"Positive. Let it serve as a reminder why we don't just go around killing people." Even as it left her mouth, she knew it was a stupid remark. As opposed to what? Dishing out any eyeball while they're still alive? "You know what, fine. Give it." She held her hand palm up, over her shoulder.

"Uh, okay then..." The moment she felt the moist blob drop onto her hand, she flung it out the passenger side window just as the wheels splashed into the water of the river. The eyeball flew further south while the wheels of the runner twisted eastward. "Thanks." He sounded uncertain—which was fair, actually. After all, deciding whether it was appropriate or not to thank someone after throwing a dead man's eyeball out the window for you was no doubt new territory for both of them.

"You're welcome."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by Trigger [[Here]](https://kirbro.tumblr.com/post/187604174672/heres-my-piece-for-the-borderlandsbigbang-i)
> 
> Art by Charlie [[Here]](https://wildcherrylime-art.tumblr.com/post/187607534036/my-art-for-the-borderlandsbigbang-a-scene)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Success

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Chapter Song]](https://youtu.be/-57Yd_abewQ)

"You're back!" Janey was the one to greet them at the door, with a big smile and a tray of cocoa. Fiona was actually beginning to worry about that. Janey had never really been much of a chocolate lover, but as of late hot cocoa was almost always sitting somewhere around wherever the four of them chose to set up. 

"Yeah." Fiona couldn't even begin to muster a tenth of the energy Janey had rippling off of her. Given that she'd mostly just been giving technical support the whole time, she really wasn't sure what had drained her so damn much. 

"We did it!" The fingersmith had no issue showing enthusiasm as he pulled his hood off his head. "Janey, it was a perfect success, gold stars for everyone!"

"A _'perfect success'_ is a bit of an overstatement, don't you think?" 

"Why? What happened?" Athena seemed to materialize at her wife's side at the first sign that there might have been a hitch in the plan. 

"Barely into the first phase, and this guy kills someone." 

Athena and Janey shared a look, before they both eyed Pickle, who had already taken it upon himself to get comfortable on a nearby stool with a cup of cocoa. Which was ridiculous considering he still had that dumb mask over his lower face. 

"Pickle... did you kill someone?" Janey asked softly, like he was a small child that had committed a little _'no-no'_. 

He looked up from his cocoa, his violet eyes wide with childish innocence. "Hm? Oh, goodness no, I didn't kill him. That man died due to unsafe machinery. As mentioned before, I never laid a hand on that fan." 

Athena pinned him with a cool glare. "So you completed your mission without killing anyone?" 

Pickle blinked, then nodded slowly. "That is correct; while I did come quite close to offing two blokes, I figured I’d already been accused of one murder, why add fuel to the fire?" 

The ex-Vault Hunter's gaze narrowed, seconds stretching on, before she nodded. "Enjoy your cocoa, then." Athena reached over, dropping what looked like a straw into his cup. 

"Oh! Thanks, mum!" Pickle preened, immediately earning a second glare from Athena.

Fiona's jaw dropped lower after each interaction, before she finally scowled, looking to Janey for help. "Are you kidding me right now?" 

Janey shrugged her shoulders. "He got in, he got out, wasn't caught—and your sister has her solid alibi. I don't really see the problem. What's done is done. Cocoa?" 

Her first instinct was to decline, as a statement against their relaxed reaction, but on the other hand, Janey made a mean cup of hot chocolate. "Alright, fine… Thank you." 

She made sure to take a stool furthest down the island countertop from the fingersmith so she could stew in peace without having to swallow her pride. Janey quickly appeared on the other side of the counter with a cup of hot chocolate, sliding it over to Fiona like she was a needy bar patron and Janey was the bartender. "Don't have your tights in such a twist, Fi. Knowing the lil' ankle-biter, it could've been loads worse."

Fiona stared at her cup, refusing to make eye contact. "You know what? That, within itself, is worse somehow. Why—why did you have to bring him onto the team for this? I mean, didn't you know anyone else?" 

"Hm... well." Janey didn't elaborate. 

"Humour me. If you knew this guy was off the shits, why'd you suggest him?" 

The mechanic still seemed to have some reservations, before she finally leaned against the counter. "Oh, alright. I admit, I just wanted a reason to see him again—it's just been a while, is all. And he really was the best fit for the job, all things considered."

Fiona pursed her lips, but given the soft expression that had crept onto Janey's face, she didn't really have the heart to argue. And besides, Pickle had actually managed to infiltrate the vault far more quickly than Fiona, or even Sasha, would've been able to, and even if Fiona would have preferred to finish the job without a body count, at least it had worked in their favour. "I dunno... something about him just... cheeses my crackers, for some reason."

"Oh, but crackers and cheese go lovely together, don't they?"

She arched a brow, but didn't comment further, taking another sip of her hot chocolate, which was nearly at the perfect temperature for chugging back. When she placed the cup down, something else crossed her mind, and she leaned in, lowering her voice even more than before. "Okay, so... what's with the stupid face mask, though?"

Janey blinked at her, stealing a look down the counter where her wife and Pickle were still stuck in animated conversation of their own. "Oh, that? It's just a fashionable version of them air filters blokes wear."

Fiona cocked her head to the side, brows furrowing, before she looked over at the fingersmith, then back to Janey. "What, like those-" she cupped both hands over her face for reference to the clunky air filter masks plenty of people with shite lungs wore across Pandora and other border planets.

"Mhm. I remember when Athena and I first went to Pandora, I had to wear one to get myself used to breathing proper air. 'Course, mine looked more like the kind you're thinking of."

"Huh." Fiona leaned back, drumming her fingers against the counter. It seemed like the obvious answer now.

Janey shrugged, but then curled a finger for Fiona to lean back in, which she did. "Although, I think that maybe he also wears it 'cause he thinks it looks cool. For the aesthetic, if you will."

Fiona smirked, eyeing the fingersmith, who seemed completely enamoured by whatever Athena was saying as the ex-Vault Hunter made various gestures to solidify whatever point she'd been making. "Or maybe he's worn it so much he doesn't even realize he has it on anymore?"

Janey didn’t care to comment further on the matter, so they fell into a comfortable silence, Athena and Pickle's low conversation making for a decent background noise. It wasn’t long before something flicked on in the back of Fiona's mind though. 

"Hey, kid, do you actually have the crystals?" 

"Hm?" He looked at her with an arched brow before her question finally seemed to settle in his mind. "Oh! Yes, come get a look at this lovely—um, Janey, do you mind sliding that tray down this way? Thank you," he put out a hand as the empty tray skidded down the counter towards him, soon followed by both Janey and Fiona who were keen to have a look at the loot. He pulled his satchel up, placing it down gently beside the tray, before opening it up and carefully extracting the fairly sized pink hunk of crystals and placing them with a great deal of care onto the tray. "Mighty fine, if I do say so m'self."

Sure enough, the base colour of the crystals were pink, but the overall gradient fell anywhere between soft rose to deep magenta, and even under the weak light of the flat, the colours seemed to shift before Fiona's eyes. "It's actually really cool," she breathed, reaching out to see if it would feel as smooth as it looked. 

In a split second, one of Pickle's own gloved hands snapped out and caught her by the sleeve. "Not the greatest idea." 

She eyed him sharply, pulling her sleeve free from his light grasp. "Oh? Care to elaborate why?"

He sat back, with a short huff. “Alright, so _ seraph crystals _, right? They’re quite different from their eridium counterpart, like how they ain’t really… similar at all. Sure, people think they were both magic’d up by the ancient eridian’s, but they wasn’t. Not technically, anyways. Uh, what was I talking about? Oh, right, so- The problem with ‘em is that they have a very low melting point, they get just like jelly and from there, it’ll start absorbing into ya skin. The effects vary from person to person, none of which have been… good.” 

Fiona pursed her lips, "Any chance we could get the bullet-point form of that?" 

"Uh, right. Keep cold, and just don’t touch it with ya bare hands." 

"Alright then." Fiona leaned back. 

Athena seemed to have more questions, leaning in with her hands folded in front of her. "How do _you _know this though?" 

"Oh, well, I am a scientist," he replied matter-of-factly. 

"You've got a degree in linguistics," Janey clarified. 

"Which is a science! Besides, I have that MD in eridiumology as well." 

"Pickle." Athena leveled her gaze on him, and for a few good moments, he managed to hold his ground before finally shifting uncomfortably, forfeiting his right to claim ignorance. 

"I don’t see how it matters but, uh… might've been about a year ago now, I was at this dig-site. Was doing some research on the eridian ruins there—when a mate and I came across a little cache of, well, _seraph crystals—_it was about three fully formed crystals, anyways, I only had the one, um, container, so I put one of 'em in there, and then stuffed the other two in an empty baggy and put it in my cooler, like anyone would—" 

"But you weren't wearing gloves and you ended up getting a buzz?" Fiona interrupted. 

"Uh, no, actually—I always have my gloves on when I'm at a dig, and… well I just always have them on actually, so no. It was actually when we got back to my own camp set up—I always make sure I'm at least a couple of meters away from the others—they're always pretty stuck up 'cuz they're all long-time corporate sponsored types..." He paused long enough for Athena to interject this time. 

"Get to the point." 

"Right! So, we finally get back, and due to the heat, the sample I contained was, well, it was like a jelly, so it was actually my mate, who, without putting a glove on, had the brilliant idea to just dump it out onto his hand and play with it like it was silly putty. And well, um… it was certainly a long night after that..”

"Wait what happened to him, your _friend_ or whatever?" Fiona asked, leaning against the counter again. 

Pickle shot her a warning glance. "I've no idea what you mean." 

She scowled at him, “Don’t play dumb, what happened?”

“Hm,” he hummed thoughtfully, sticking the straw from his drink back under his mask and taking an obnoxiously long slurp. “Doesn’t matter.” 

She shot a glance around the room at the other two women. "Aw, c'mon, are you two seriously okay with him giving up halfway on a story?"

Janey just shrugged and Athena’s face remained expressionless. “I don’t think we’re exactly privy to all the finer details of Pickle’s life story.”

Athena’s tone caused Fiona to arch a brow in confusion, wondering what exactly the ex-Vault Hunter’s point might have been until she noticed the tips of Pickle’s ears turning a deep shade of red. “_How’d’ya_ _do that_?” He hissed, leaning towards Athena, and away from Fiona like he was trying to hide his comment from her.

Athena gave him a bored look. “When you live as long as I have, you start to notice and pick up on some things.” 

His eyebrows rose, but more in disbelief then actual interest. “Whatever, stay out’ me head.”

Fiona sighed, “did I miss something? Am I getting the rest of this story or not?” 

Pickle eyed her for a moment, then spoke. “Sure, why not, but can we wait til Sasha gets back? I feel like she’d take more of an interest then you would to be honest.”

She squinted at him, not trusting him at his word. “Fine, but I’m cutting your pay if you don’t.” Now, Fiona wasn’t able to actually tell if the fingersmith was scowling at her comment, but it did seem likely.

“Tch, you’re taking the piss if you think I’m getting any less of a cut than what was previously agreed.”

"C’mon now, watch your mouth,” Janey interjected. 

Pickle sat back, giving her a confused look. “Now how am I supposed to do that with my mask on?”

Janey was definitely scowling at his back-handed comment, but before she could muster a retort, the front door swung open revealing the last of the group. 

"Guess who made it out alive! I- _did you actually get it?!"_ Sasha's eyes lit up as she noticed the chunk of crystal sitting on the counter between Fiona and Pickle, the rest of her original sentence disappearing in the wind. "Holy shit, we actually did it!" 

"I mean, yeah—I promised we'd get it done, didn't I?" 

Sasha eyes rolled at Fiona’s quip. 

"Yeah, okay, sis." 

Sasha was quick to close the distance, but just as she started to reach out to touch it, Fiona and Pickle both reached out and stopped her. 

"Bad idea," they chimed in unison.

* * *

Everything simmered down after that. Janey and Athena insisted on cooking that evening—although that usually meant that Athena would be the one doing the actual cooking—while Sasha, Fiona, and Pickle all moved a few feet to the left to where a lumpy old couch and what might have been a chair once sat in what could be considered a living room. It was here that Fiona managed to pry from Pickle, in as much detail as possible, his supposed experience with _seraph crystals_. 

"Wow." Sasha finally shook her head when he was done. "That's actually hilarious, and a little hard to believe—but like, do you actually go to dig sites, like as someone who works at them?" 

Pickle tilted his head to the side, brow furrowed. "No, I decided to just use my PhD as a coaster, and I sneak into the dig-sites for the laughs. Also the fact that _ that _ is what you decide to focus on is… well, a bit disheartening actually."

“Yeah that was a pretty fucked up thing you did. I mean, what was… what was your thought process there?” But before Pickle could answer Fiona’s question, Sasha was cutting back in. 

"Okay, yeah whatever—but like, back to my point. You're still from _Elpis_ right? How did you even manage to get a PhD, in anything, let alone, uh, languages." 

The fingersmith sighed, but seemed ready to settle for a change of topic. "_Linguistics_, and... that's not such a funny story actually. So, why don't we save that for another time—and instead, why don't we have a nice chat about whatever it was Mr. Atlas needed to confess, eh? That sounded pretty interesting." 

Fiona frowned, eyeing her sister. "Oh?" 

Sasha scrunched her nose before sighing and leaning back against the arm of the sofa. "It's nothing. You know Rhys, everything has to sound and be treated like a big deal." 

Pickle, sitting on the opposite end of the sofa, shifted, knees tucked up to his chest. "Well, I don't know if it actually sounded like a big deal, but it does sound rather personal so... why don't we talk about how the two of you met him instead?" 

Sasha snorted, crossing her arms. "Well, when we met him, he was just some Hyperion stooge." 

Fiona watched as Pickle's expression showed a pique in interest. "Oh? That sounds a bit funny—not like 'haha' funny, though... how'd he go from Hyperion to Atlas CEO, do you think?" 

"You'd have to ask him about that one," Fiona jumped in, sitting forward in the chair. "But, back when we met him, he was just an idiot looking to make it big. A small time manager or something with dreams too grand, and like every other Hyperion, was way too invested in the Handsome Jack legacy." She was actually starting to think she was gonna like this topic. Ragging on Rhys did always have a way of making her feel better. 

Pickle rolled his eyes, and Fiona could imagine an uncomfortable grimace forming beneath his face mask. "Never understood that," he muttered low enough that Fiona almost didn't catch it. 

"Understood what?" Sasha asked. 

"Why everyone always had that weird obsession with Jackie—I mean, sure, the man played it up when he was alive, but once he kicked off you'd think people would've been able to finally look past it all." 

Fiona almost nodded her agreement to his sentiment, before something stood out to her, she and Sasha shared a look before asking in perfect sync, "_ Jackie?" _

Pickle's head leaned back as he realized his mistake immediately. "Uhm..." He leaned further back, as if he could disappear into the couch if he pushed back enough. "Right, nevermind—" 

"You knew Handsome Jack?" Sasha blurted out. 

"I... yes, I mean, who didn't know him, back in the day? He was always plastering his face everywhere—I doubt there's a person alive on Pandora and Elpis that didn't know him." He waved a hand in front of his face.

"Yeah but how many of those people are gonna call that genocidal megalomaniac _Jackie_," Fiona pressed. 

"Right, well... here's the thing, um..." 

"Go on, bitch the pot." Sasha said, now sitting up as well. 

"Well... I mean... that's not really how you use that phrase, Sasha-"

"_ Pickle _," both of them stressed. 

"Right, okay well… someone had to pay for my education, yeah? PhD's ain't cheap, y'know." 

Fiona and Sasha both sputtered for a moment, neither of them knowing what to do with that information. "No—no, I don't believe that-" 

"How does that make sense—I need some receipts or something for that." 

"I—I certainly didn't pay for it." Pickle stated casually. 

"Oh, obviously—but Jack? _Handsome Jack? _Why would he do that for you?" 

"Ah, okay, so—see, here's the thing about that-" 

"Alright, you three, settle down—Janey needs to focus, and Pickle, I need to talk to you for a moment," Athena nudged in at probably the worst time for the sisters and the best time for Pickle. 

"Oh, Athena, no! I mean, are you sure you should leave Janey alone, in the kitchen?" Sasha pleaded. 

"Well, if you're so concerned, you two are more than welcome to go help her. Pickle, follow me." 

"Well, if you insist." Pickle faked a winded sigh, but the moment her back was turned he gave the sisters a cheeky wink and made a finger guns motion before following. 

Sasha stuck her tongue out in response, but Fiona mentally restrained herself from partaking in the childish affair. Which took a lot more effort than she would ever care to admit. She did watch curiously as Athena dragged the fingersmith out the front door. Fiona decided it probably wasn't worth worrying about, though—and besides, Sasha was already waist deep in theories she wanted Fiona's opinion on. 

"What if he's telling the truth, though? I mean, how close would you have to be to a man like Handsome Jack for him to foot the bill for someone to get an entire PhD—and apparently a Master's too? Wait—how old is Pickle anyways?" 

"Early twenties, I think... but apparently he's a 'top-notch' thief or whatever. Maybe he had some sort of agreement with Jack. Pickle steals shit for him, and eventually Jack would pay for his education." 

"Hm... no, that sounds a little too plausible. Besides, there's millions of thieves across Pandora and Elpis, what made this guy special?" 

"I don't know, Sasha—can we talk about something else? Talking about Jack is almost as depressing as talking about Rhys." 

"Oh, wow... okay…" Sasha let it go for approximately 3 seconds before adding, "you know, I don't know why you hate Rhys so much." 

She arched a brow, leaning back with her arms crossed. "I don't hate Rhys. I just... think he's an idiot, and a total hypocrite." 

"Really?" Sasha sighed, leaning back, but stretching her legs out on the sofa so she didn't have to face Fiona. "Honestly, he's ready to make amends whenever you are." 

She rolled her eyes, holding back a snort. "Yeah, of course he is. If even one person doesn't like him, it makes for bad PR right?" 

"Seriously, Fi, what actually is your problem with Rhys—it can't just be about Helios, and all that stuff afterwards. I mean, _I'm_ over it already." 

_Shit, this is going to turn into an actual serious conversation, isn't it?_ Fiona sighed, letting her arms drop, hands folded in her lap. "It isn't about Helios—or the Vault, or any of that. It's just... when we all finally did get back together again, he came strolling in as the CEO of _Atlas_. It's like, everything that happened to all of us suddenly didn't matter; all the bullshit that corporations like Hyperion, and Atlas too for that matter, put all of us through—he still chose to be _one of them_. And then he preached some bullshit about how Atlas would be _different_, and _better_. But you've seen what it's like, Sasha. The climate we're in—there's talk of another corporate war on the horizon and what a surprise at who's smack dab in the middle of it all," she paused, to see if Sasha was actually following or not. 

"Atlas and Maliwan." She added, still not looking at her sister. 

"Yup. _Atlas_," she stressed, "_different and better_, my ass. Honestly, if bombs started falling on Promethean soil by tomorrow, I wouldn't be surprised. You can't get to the top and still be a good person, Sash. You just can't. I don't trust him, and you shouldn't either." 

They spent a good couple of minutes in awkward silence, before Fiona stood up from her chair to stand next to her sister. "Look, Sasha..." 

"No, everything you said... it carries weight, and... I'm not gonna tell you you're wrong. And I'm not about to defend Rhys, either. But... I do think he's at least _trying_ to make Atlas better. Call me stupid for it..." 

"You're not stupid, Sasha- if you honestly think he's trying, then he probably is. But… don't expect it to _last_. He's running a business, not a charity. How long do you think helping the little people is gonna last in the long term before he's gotta start doing what everyone else does just to make a quick buck?" 

"I know. I... I just wish the world wasn't so shitty that that's what it always comes down to," Sasha admitted, looking up at her sister with a tired expression. 

"That's the way life be, sis," Fiona said, leaning down to wrap her in a tight hug, which Sasha openly returned. 

"Still sucks, though." 

"No argument there." 

After a few more seconds of some good hugging Fiona pulled away, motioning for Sasha to move her legs long enough for Fiona to take a seat beside her, then pulled her sister's legs up onto her lap. "Well, glad that's out of the way at last." 

"Ugh, same. I hate having serious talks, they are so boring." 

"Right?" She gave a weak chuckle, before moving the conversation back to something a bit more humorous. "Okay, so if my theory is off the table, what's yours then? How do you think Pickle got involved with Hyperion?" 

Sasha's face lit up as she sat forward, already making dramatic hand motions. "Ah, yes… So get this—what if _ instead—" _

* * *

"So we're clear then?" 

"Crystal clear." Pickle nodded, walking back into the small flat as Athena held the door open for him. "Although, I think you might have higher expectations of me then I truly deserve," he joked. 

The moment they made it clear of the door, Athena pulling it closed behind her, the animated conversation from over on the couch died down and the sisters peered curiously over at Pickle. 

"We have some theories..." Sasha piped up, the question clearly directed at Pickle about whatever conversation they'd been having previously before Athena had interjected. 

"Oh, goody. Unfortunately, I'll have to hear them another time, though." 

Athena paused on her way over to the kitchen. "You're not leaving, are you?" 

"Um, yes, I am, I do have some other things that need attending. That and I actually set up lodgings at another location—you know, on the off chance this all went tits up in the rhubarb patch." Pickle followed along behind her until he reached his satchel, which he quickly scooped up and swung over his shoulder.

Janey, who was no doubt listening in on everything that had occurred within earshot, turned away from where she had previously been hyper focused on the stovetop. "But I'm making your favourite! You know that Elpian dish you always said you could never get enough of?" 

Pickle gave her a sad look. "Sorry, Springs, I honestly didn't even mean to stay this long. I mean, nothing's more suspicious than a congregation of thieves and ex-Vault Hunters." 

Athena rolled her eyes, moving passed Janey to check on the food, which her wife quickly took as an excuse to leave her duties in the dust. "But I'm neither of those things!" 

"Exactly! That makes you an innocent bystander that shouldn't have gotten caught up in all of this," Pickle replied just as dramatically. "Besides, I'll probably be back sometime within the next cycle to check up on things. I'm not gonna disappear on ya just yet." 

Athena peeked over her shoulder and watched as Janey pulled a reluctant Pickle into a tight hug. She waited until that was over before clearing her throat. "Well before you take off, can you at least put that somewhere other than on the counter?" She gestured with the large wooden spoon in her hand at the crystals that were still sitting on the tray. "There's an empty lockbox in the pantry over there. Coldest place here, other than the fridge." 

"Hm, I don't even know if that old thing is working," Janey added on, letting the fingersmith go so he could follow Athena's command. 

"Right-o. That's what these gloves are for, I guess." Pickle shrugged, picking the crystals up, tray and all, before disappearing behind the door Athena had indicated. 

Sasha was the first to jump off the couch, coming over to lean against the counter. "Can't you talk him into staying just a little longer? I need answers!" 

"Answers to what?" Athena humoured her, focusing back on the sizzling pan in front of her. Janey had actually done a magnificent job of not letting anything burn to the bottom of it. 

"Our questions." Fiona replied for her sister. 

"Ah, of course." 

It was a moment later that Pickle reappeared, pulling the door closed with a definite thump, his satchel swinging heavily against his side. 

"Well, this has been fun! Best be going." Out of the corner of her eye, Athena watched him give a loose salute to the sisters. 

"You're not forgetting anything, are you?" She asked, not looking up from her work. 

Janey scoffed at her question. "Well, if he is, he said it himself, he'll be back!" 

"Catch you later, scamp," Fiona said. 

"We'll make sure there's no leftovers for you, too," Sasha added. 

"Really feeling the love here, thank you. And no, I didn't forget anything, Athena. But thank you for asking." Athena looked up long enough to catch the nod of his head, and then he made his exit, and the flat seemed to lose some of its energy with him. 

"God, what a terrible person," Fiona said the moment the door closed.

"I know, I'm so glad he's gone," Sasha followed along.

"Oh, that's enough out of you two." Janey shooed at them, the pair giggling like they were each at least a decade younger.

"Like Janey said, he'll be back." Athena stated, giving the pan another shake. But maybe a bit too forcefully, as a few pieces flicked out and onto the stove top, where they sizzled and burned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by Trigger [[Here]](https://kirbro.tumblr.com/post/187604174672/heres-my-piece-for-the-borderlandsbigbang-i)
> 
> Art by Charlie [[Here]](https://wildcherrylime-art.tumblr.com/post/187607534036/my-art-for-the-borderlandsbigbang-a-scene)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	3. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Chapter Song]](https://youtu.be/4XTkt5riFqs)
> 
> Final Chapter babey !!!
> 
> Again, big ol' shout out to everyone, I love you guys so much !!!

What exactly was it that made superiority complexes and throwing wicked raves go hand in hand? 

Pickle had no idea, but from the top entrance of the not-so-abandoned cathedral, he could still appreciate the set-up. The DJ was having a go at it where an orchestra would normally be set up. Above that, the stage where most religions would have their preacher, well, preaching, had instead been renovated into a makeshift fight ring. Outdated pews piled around the arena in a vaguely circular shape (and whether this was to protect the viewers from the fighters, or vice versa, Pickle couldn't say). Next, he was fairly certain what had once been a confessional booth of sorts was definitely not where anyone was going in hopes of repenting anymore. 

_Innovation at its finest_, Pickle mused as he held one gloved hand up to wave down whoever was controlling the lights up above, the other remaining firmly at his side. It took them a moment to recognize him due to the distance, but soon enough he had himself wrapped in violet. One rule the CoV's always abided by was this: if you see someone under a spotlight, you best be getting out of their way. Unless of course, the light was green; that meant the poor bastard was fair game for whatever violent act the overzealous followers had in mind. Luckily Pickle had only been caught under the green light once; and, well, everyone made sure that mistake wasn't repeated. 

"Oi, Enrique." He called out once he'd made it through the parted crowd towards the left side of the cathedral, which was still in the process of some nifty remodelling. "Mind letting me upstairs?" 

A man came towards the barricade leading to a wide flight of stairs, standing just shy of 6 feet. Before answering, he flashed the black light in his hand across Pickle's face; revealing the carefully painted 'V' on his face mask, and no doubt giving his eyes an eerie glow. "Well, shit. If it isn't Violet-Eyes. Thought I heard the women rushing to hide their husbands." 

"Tch, piss off, mate." Pickle rolled his eyes, tucking his hands in his pockets. 

Enrique let out a soft laugh that was almost drowned out by the music. "Only teasing, amigo." His voice took a serious note after that as he leaned against the barricade. "So what brings you here tonight, anyways?" 

Looking up, he took a few steps closer. "I've got a delivery for someone upstairs. Someone who ain't exactly a fan of waiting, so if we could do this little game of catch-up another time, that'd be great." 

Enrique eyed him up and down. "What kind of delivery?" 

"'fraid that's above your pay grade, mate." He nodded his head towards the small break in the barricade. "You gonna let me pass or what?" 

Enrique clicked his tongue, since they both already knew the answer. The man would still be back on Pandora in a bandit slum if it hadn't been for Pickle, and thus owed the fingersmith any and all favours. A currency Pickle had recently become much more accustomed to using. Plus... "Even if I didn't, there's nothing in the six galaxies that could keep you out." Lifting the end of a broken pew, he ushered Pickle through with a wave of his free hand. 

"I'll be seeing you then." With a lazy salute, Pickle took to the stairs, one hand moving back to firmly grip the satchel against his hip. While the general sound from below faded bit by bit, the floor still vibrated beneath his boots, as did the wall against his right hand as his eyes scanned around one corner, then the other. _Hmm_... 

Moving to the center of the corridor, he looked back and forth. Barely a week had passed since he'd last been in there, but somehow his mind blanked for a moment. Something was different here... He snapped his fingers, finally catching on. "New doors, that's what it is. _Anyways_," Pickle took off at a brisk pace down the right end, hanging a sharp left, and then continued to the end of the corridor; the door sliding open the moment he was a half step away. Inside, the room was almost completely barren, save for a single table, set up in the center of the room, and two dim lamps on either side of the doorway. On top of the table were a few things, but what caught Pickle's attention first was a strange looking disc with a handwritten note placed on it. 

"Place loot here... _smiley-face_..." He raised a brow at the note. "A bit childish, don't you think," he sighed, crumpling the note in his hand before reaching into his satchel and carefully lifting out the chunk of crystals. Then he carefully placed the crystals down on the disc shaped... thingy. Once the crystal settled, Pickle's eyes widened as the disc beneath lit up, a blue light refracting through the pink of the crystals and casting a purple glow throughout the room, which wouldn't have had nearly the same effect if it the cluster been a fake; that is if it would have actually worked at all. "Sly bastard..." 

"Oh surely you're not talking about me," a voice startled him from behind. 

"Hm?" Pickle turned slowly, gently leaning his back against the table, before waving a hand in front of him; as if shooing away his previous words. "Meant it as a compliment, of course. You're a thinker, Mr. Calypso—a genuine rarity in these parts, I might add."

Troy Calypso gave him an unimpressed look, but didn't comment further as he entered the room. Pickle watched as the door slid noiselessly shut behind the man, moving a few spaces over as he stopped just short of the table. "It's smaller than it should be, isn't it?" Mr. Calypso asked, reaching a cybernetic hand towards the cluster, casting strangely beautiful shadows across the walls of the room.

Pickle cocked his head quizzically. "Well, have you considered using ya regular sized hand to make comparisons?" When all that got him was a pointed glare, Pickle held his hands up in defense. "Just a suggestion. I actually thought it was quite large when I gave it a half inch pinch, but, well," he wiggled his fingers to emphasize his unspoken point.

Whether it was due to the ethereal light engulfing the room, or just Calypso looking _ like that _, the man seemed to have dark circles under his eyes that were definitely heavier than the last time Pickle had been to the Cathedral. A tired sigh from the man seemed to make it apparent that he really was just tired as all heck. "Alright, so you have the crystals—what about everything else?"

Pickle crossed his arms, deciding to look at a particularly uninteresting spot on the floor instead. "Everything else?" he mused, feeling his sense of humour was going rather underappreciated.

"Davis, I've had a long day, just give me a straight answer." It was a few moments before Mr. Calypso held up a single finger, effectively stopping Pickle from giving his reply. "_ Don't _."

Pursing his lips beneath his mask, he nodded slowly, "Okay, okay—but you would'a run right into that one." He took a few seconds to collect his thoughts before continuing, "alright, so, as per your ingenious plan, I made sure to leave a lovely little trail framing Maliwan for everything that's been taken from the Hyas Vault. As well as what might appear as a murder, but also... wasn't? It's complicated. Also, I've already updated your ECHO with a full report with all the finer details."

Honestly, it was a pretty extensive list. He'd given the fake a Maliwan watermark on the underside, the ear piece left behind had been Maliwan-made; even the hacking tool he used on the lock inside the vent was designed with Maliwan tech, so the disrupted coding would point to the elementally-inclined corporation. Not that any of this matter at present since...

Mr. Calypso's eyes narrowed curiously, "Alright .. but you make it sound like you took more than what was planned..." he started.

Pickle shrugged a shoulder, not even bothering to pretend his phrasing had been an accident, and proceeded to produce a small bundle from his satchel. "Well, you see, I had a thought—how many chances does one get to loot a top-secret facility?" He held the bundle of papers out to the other man, adding, "right here is a choice collection of rare Atlas weapon designs—some are from the first Promethean era, and I figured, if you got these to that Maliwan contact of yours, you'd really paint their hands red. 'Magine if something like this got back to Atlas—might finally set a proper fire under them and they'll start taking Maliwan seriously, eh?"

The level of interest on Mr. Calypso's face piqued as he reached a hand toward the collection of blueprints, but just before his fingers even graced the paper, he paused, suspicion clouding his face. "And what exactly is this extra loot gonna cost me?"

Pickle hummed, pulling the blueprints back out of the other man's reach, bobbing his head from side to side in mock consideration. "You know, I was actually about to just give them to you," he snorted, then added as more of an aside "Imagine that…" Then clearing his throat he said, "but since you mentioned it..." He tapped the bundle against his mask idly.

Calypso gave him a tired look, before he eyed the way Pickle continued to tap the bundle against his mouth. His change in stance said it all, even though he dragged out a long sigh. "Why is it that even when I'm winning, I feel like I'm losing with you?"

Pickle shrugged, leaning his hands back against the table as Mr. Calypso stepped in closer, drawing Pickle's gaze up to meet his eye. He waited expectantly, but if there was one thing he didn't have, it was the patience of a saint. 

"If you can't pay up, that's more than fine; I know a few Hyperion blokes that'd do just about _ anything _ to get their hands on something like this," he said after a few more agonizing seconds of intense eye contact.

Calypso pulled the mask down from his face, and Pickle could no longer hide his victorious little smirk. “What am I supposed to do with you?” It was a rhetorical question, given that before Pickle could even think of a response, Troy’s mouth was against his. Pickle curled his hand tightly around the blueprints, leaning into the kiss, reaching up with his empty hand to card his fingers through Troy’s hair. He kept going until his fingers gingerly traced the cybernetics along the back of the other man’s neck, knowing how sensitive the exposed metal was. His eyes fluttered open as the kiss deepened, and he was a little taken aback to find Troy’s eyes tightly closed as the other man breathed a sigh against Pickle’s mouth, hands running down his back in the form of a soft caress. He went with it for a few moments longer before pulling back, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been keeping in. “Damn, you’d think I was offerin’ you the whole damn world with a kiss like that.”

“With you in my arms, I already have _ my _ whole world.”

It took Pickle a second to catch on, but when he did a blush so vibrant spread across his face and shoved the packet of blueprints directly into Troy’s face, cursing at the same time. “Piss off.”

Troy laughed it off, pulling Pickle back towards him, and with a stumble, he fell against the other man’s chest. “Always so testy,” Troy growled without a hint of malice in his voice. “Really, what am I supposed to do with you?”

Pickle huffed, shifting himself around so his back faced Troy, and he tilted his head back, already feeling Troy place his chin against the top of his head. “Don’t know, don’t care.” He sighed, closing his eyes.

“Don’t care?” Troy sounded genuinely surprised. “That kinda sounds like an invitation to-”

Pickle jabbed his elbow back into the softness of Troy’s side before he could finish the sentence. “You’re really lookin’ to piss me off, ain’t you? Can’t you at least pay me before you make me kill ya?” When his comment was left unanswered, he looked up to see Troy giving him a confused look, before his eyes darted away, looking forward. “Don’t avoid-”

“Dude,” Fingers pinched his chin, drawing his gaze down until he was staring at the table in front of him, exactly where a briefcase sat. How he’d missed it in his first scope of the room eluded him, but also didn’t _ really _matter. “Long day, tealeaf?” 

“I-” he made a grumble sound in the back of his throat “Shut the hell your mouth.” He added when he could feel Troy shaking behind him before the laugh had the chance to pass his lips.

Troy leaned down, humming softly right next to Pickle’s ear in response. Which was so, so much worse than any alternative retort the man could’ve come up with. Troy’s warm breath tickling his ear as his arms tightened around his waist. Completely insufferable. “I will warm you though, Tyreen insisted in putting your pay together so… watch out, I guess.”

“Ah, I'm sure it'll be fine.” He reached out towards the case, intent on opening it, but just when his fingers would have brushed the case, Troy gave him another tug around his midsection and his fingertips twitched just a few centimeters from the case.

“It’s getting close to the end of the cycle,” Troy said. Pickle waited for him to elaborate, but it didn’t seem like that was apart of the plan.

“Yes, that is how time works. A cycle ends, another starts.” He stretched out his hand again, but still wasn't quite close enough to reach the case.

“Mhm.”

Pickle bit back a long sigh. “Do you ‘ave a point? Or is statin’ the obvious-”

“You should stay here.”

“I, uh, thought we already talked about this. Besides, don’t you make these outposts with self-sufficiency in mind? And ain’t you shipping back to Pandora within the next week?”

“I meant stay for the rest of cycle, tealeaf."

Pickle still wasn’t sure the point behind that until the light bulb in the back of his head finally blinked on. “Oh… ah, that… um, well...” 

Even as Troy pulled away from him, Pickle caught the sound of a tired sigh leaving him. “Company’s optional, obviously. Just figured this late, you might need a place to crash.”

He turned quickly, Troy already making headway towards the exit. “Yeah, no… um, I… I might need a key or something if I’m staying, right?”

Troy paused, just before the door, giving Pickle a once over before smirking. “Right, yeah let me just...“ he reached a hand into his jacket’s inside pocket. “Oh no, looks like all I have in here are blueprints,” he deadpanned in mock surprise, pulling out the weapons’ schematics and no keycard.

Pickle bit the inside of his cheek, holding up a keycard between two fingers, feeling a little less cheeky. Given enough time, anyone can become a little too predictable.

“Oh no, how did that get there, woe is me.” When Pickle rolled his eyes, Troy finally smiled again.

“Okay, so maybe I ain't as sneaky as I used to be.”

“No offense to your skills, or ego, but I don’t think there’s much you could do that would surprise me anymore.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” Pickle muttered under his breath, looking down at a particularly uninteresting bit of floor. 

“Anyways… I guess I’ll see you later then,” Troy’s voice was closer, and when Pickle looked up, the man was standing right in front of him, his gaze soft and… otherwise unreadable in the dim lighting of the room, combined with the glow that came from the crystals behind him.

Pickle raising his chin, “well, I dunno ‘bout that. You’ll just ‘ave to wait n see, eh?”

He tried to turn away, but Troy’s finger brushed his chin again before he leaned down, and Pickle was oh so certain it was for another kiss, when at the last second, Troy’s lips pressed against the scar across his left cheek, then the next one that stretched from the corner of his nose across his lips, another on the corner of his mouth, before he stopped his trail on the last one on the side of his jaw. A soft trail off kisses that Pickle was likely going to still feel for the rest of the damn night. “I _ will _ see you later.” Was all he said before turning and leaving without so much as a look back.

Pickle swallowed a string of curses, before shaking his head, rolling his shoulders and standing up straighter. He huffed a sigh, looking back at the briefcase, at the cluster, then to the door as it closed, leaving him alone in the room. Pickle went over to the briefcase, clicking it open, finding no bombs, or any other form of tampering, and sure enough there had to be at least five million inside. “_ You’re sooo predictable, Davis _ ,” he mocked aloud, taking his echo out to digitize one million of the payment directly into his account, eyeing the new message that had popped up from Athena, with a list of details for his next mission. “ _ Nothing you can do will surprise me, because I’m Mr. Calypso and I know everything. _” He shot a glance over his shoulder one last time before he sized up the cluster of crystals. With the new space, they would fit quite nicely into the case.

After all, his mission from Troy had stated that he needed to bring the crystals to the CoV. It hadn’t said a single thing about _ leaving _ them there… "Dare y't'see this comin'."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by Trigger [[Here]](https://kirbro.tumblr.com/post/187604174672/heres-my-piece-for-the-borderlandsbigbang-i)
> 
> Art by Charlie [[Here]](https://wildcherrylime-art.tumblr.com/post/187607534036/my-art-for-the-borderlandsbigbang-a-scene)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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